


Man, Woman or Dancing Bear

by PeroxidePirate



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-29
Updated: 2010-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:00:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeroxidePirate/pseuds/PeroxidePirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One fall day, Tris and Little Bear make a new acquaintance: a man named Arthur, who also answers to Bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man, Woman or Dancing Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There's that quasi-canon comment about Tris's future husband being a were-bear (but not in a literal sense). I thought that would be a fun thing to explore - and I am a literal minded person.

The sky was flawlessly blue, and the fall air was still and unusually hot. The only breezes in the area were those that surrounded Tris, keeping her slightly cooler.

“Little Bear!” she called, scanning the underbrush for any rustle of movement. “Beeeeear! Come here, boy! Bear!”

 _He's more than twelve years old,_ she had thought. _He won't go far._ What a fool the old dog had made of Tris.

His age was the whole reason he was with her: Lark had been afraid he wouldn't be able to keep up while she and Rosethorn traveled with Glaki and their other students. After years away from them, the dog had been delighted to see Tris and his other old friends, and Tris had promised herself she would take him everywhere. That day, she'd gone to Winding Circle, then been sidetracked on her way back to Summersea. While she investigated the patterns of a small creek, the dog had wandered off.

“Beeeeeear!” she repeated, using some precious breeze to carry her voice across the thicket.

Something rustled in front of her, out of sight – something large; much larger than a rabbit or squirrel. This close to the city, it wasn't likely to be a wild animal.

“Bear?” Tris asked.

The underbrush rustled again, and Tris took a step forward, leaning down.

“Hello?” A man stepped out of the brush.

Tris stared, blinking.

The stranger was a large man, at least a foot taller than Tris, and solidly built. His beard was closely trimmed, his brown hair fighting the tie that held it into a horsetail. He was clad in light-colored breeches and a green tunic with no sleeves; he looked to be about the same age as Tris. In one hand he clutched a mesh bag, half full of the mushrooms that grew up after the autumn rains.

“Hello?” Tris echoed. “And who are you?”

“Arthur Conrad.” He held out a hand. “Who are you?”

“Trisana Chandler.” She shook hands, warily.

He breathed deep when Tris's breezes flitted past his face. “It's cooler here. Is it you?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” she snapped.

“It is,” he insisted, voice full of wonder. “There's no breeze anywhere else. Are you a mage?”

No point in denying the obvious. “What of it?” she challenged.

At that moment, the shaggy white dog bounded out of the brush from the opposite direction. He looked up at Tris, delighted to see her, and completely unaware that his presence had been missed. “Little Bear,” she said, leaning down to pat his neck.

“Ah, your dog.” At Tris's raised eyebrow, Arthur explained. “I answer to Bear. Not that anyone would call me that here, since I don't know anyone in Summersea – it is Summersea we're near?”

“It is.” Tris didn't quite know why, but she had the impulse to take care of this strange, bewildered bear of a man. “And now you do know someone – me.”

On the walk back to Summersea, Tris and Arthur told stories of their travels. By the time they turned onto Cheeseman Street, they were trading barbs like old friends, while Little Bear calmly kept pace with Tris.

“Pox rot it!” Tris exclaimed, as a scrap of vision came to her on the wind: the grand courtyard of the Duke's Citadel, where banners were being hung and bonfires readied for the harvest ball. She turned to her new friend. “Arthur, I have to go. There's a ball tonight, and my friends are expecting me. I have to get ready.”

“Oh, well, have fun, then.”

 _“Fun?”_ Tris demanded, shoving her glasses up on her nose. “Hardly. Men don't care to dance with a girl like me – women, either, if it matters – so I'll end up hiding in the library all night. Then my sisters will be cross with me for not joining the party, and my brother will disappear with his latest conquest, which we'll all have to hear about tomorrow. _Fun?_ No, thank you.”

“Don't you have an escort who will dance with you?”

Tris laughed, mirthlessly. “Me?”

“Oh.” Arthur stepped in front of Tris, turning to face her. “Trisana Chandler, I'd be honored if you would allow me to escort you to the... what is it again?”

“It's a ball,” Tris said, blushing in spite of herself. “A harvest moon ball.”

“Harvest moon?” Some of the color drained from Arthur's face. “The full moon is tonight. Tris, forgive me. I have to take back my invitation.”

“Of course you do.” Tris's breezes flapped harder, whipping her clothes around. She wouldn't seriously lose control, but she was angry. Little Bear whined, moving away from Tris to lay down in apparent disappointment.

“I mean it.” Arthur took Tris's hands in his, looking down into her face. “Any other night, I can't think of a place I'd rather be. But the night of the full moon... I _can't.”_

He was so serious, Tris wanted to believe him. She shifted her vision, allowing her to see magic – not just the magic being done, but the magic in people, too. Usually, all this magic showed up in silver. But when she looked at Arthur, he glittered copper with tooth and claw. _I answer to Bear,_ he'd said.

 _“Oh.”_ Her face lit with understanding.

He ducked his head, sheepishly.

“Is it just at the full moon?” she asked, curious.

“One night each moon.” He looked down at their hands, still clasped together, and his fingers tightened around hers in something like desperation.

“I've heard of such things, but I've never known someone like you.” Tris freed one of her hands, reaching up to lift Arthur's chin. “Stop being pathetic, please. Confidence suits you so much better.”

The were-bear looked at her, blinking. “Aren't you afraid of me?”

“Afraid?” She laughed, this time with amusement. “Arthur. You know I'm a mage; I told you some of my stories – some of the _tamer_ ones. The things I've seen, things I've _done,_ forces I've harnessed... I'm not afraid of bears.”

His smile started slowly, then grew broader and broader. When Tris thought his face might split right in half, he leaned down, instead, and kissed her. When they broke apart, they were both smiling.

Little Bear leaned his long body against their legs, looking up at Tris like a benevolent aunt. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she heard herself ask.


End file.
